


I don’t Wanna Be Your Friend

by Artistvsworld



Category: The Walking Dead, The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alpha!Daryl, Carl Lives, M/M, Omega Verse, Omegaverse, Screw the tv show with that, Slow Burn, age gap, agedup!Carl, not good at tags, omega!Carl, secret romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 09:48:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19270759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artistvsworld/pseuds/Artistvsworld
Summary: Daryl is an Alpha. An Alpha with a very not okay attraction to a young boy named Carl. What can he really do about it though? It's just instinct he'd want the only Omega for himself.





	I don’t Wanna Be Your Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everybody! I’m back at it again with another story! Hopefully, I can actually start finishing the stories I start. I have just a little bit more time now. 
> 
> Also! This story is on Wattpad, so feel free to go check it out there as well! 
> 
> This story is also going to be edited periodically, as I don't really have betas. Please keep in mind that this is a draft, and until I state otherwise, it will always be up for edits.
> 
> As always, feel free to comment! I enjoy reading comments, and comments really do motivate me to keep going and pushing forward with a story! 
> 
> And for those still waiting for an update on Misuse of a Teenage Life don’t worry! I did NOT forget about it. I will finishing writing the update ASAP. 
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy the story!

 

**Disclaimer**

**This section is just a teaser! This is NOT the full first chapter! When the full chapter is posted, I will remove this disclaimer.**

 Daryl wasn't quite sure how he managed to get such a nice tent. He also wasn't quite sure how he'd managed to convince Carl to be alone in that tent with him, but none of that seemed to matter at this point.

 Carl was in his lap, chest pressed against his, with his arms around Daryl's neck and his lips interlocked with the older man's. Daryl had placed one hand on the boy's hip, gripping so tight his fingertips had begun to not only turn white, but to leave small bruises in their shape on Carl's deliciously curved hip. The other hand had snaked it's way up the back of that grey tee shirt with the paw print and the red collar. He pawed at the young boy's back, forcing him closer and closer. Each and every touch of Daryl's hands on Carl's skin would elicit the most arousing of small gasps and moans.

 Carl was far too sensitive, and that turned Daryl on more. After a particularly loud moan from Carl as the result of a kiss Daryl had place in the crook of his neck, Daryl had pinned the poor teen to the floor of the tent, slipping off that ridiculous grey tee shirt and exposing a pale chest with dark nipples. Just the sight of him half naked was enough to make Daryl lose track of his thoughts and begin to pant. When his eyes met with Carl's, he forgot clothes were a thing that needed to be removed. He kissed Carl's neck and chest, which made those small noises become more frequent. He then began to grind his hips into Carl's, and Carl made a broken, loud sound that made the heat within Daryl's body grow like wildfire. Daryl pulled away, looking down at the young body beneath him. Each and every detail of Carl's skin was now imprinted permanently in Daryl's memory. From the three large moles that dotted Carl's left peck to the small, barely visible trail of hairs that went from the boy's naval down to the top of his jeans and further if Daryl dared to remove that dark blue, ill-fitted loose pair of jeans Carl was wearing.

 His jeans felt tight. Off. He needed them off. As soon as the button was popped and the zipper undone, a gasp followed by a breathy, drawn out "Oh Daryl" filled the small space inside the tent.

  _Fuck_. This was moving too fast. Carl was moving too fast. Daryl wanted to take this slow, be gentle, and Carl was squirming and making the cutest little sounds. Daryl took deep breathes and clenched the sleeping bag that was underneath the boy he was on top of in his fists. _Fuck_ _fuck_ _fuck_! It wasn't working! Daryl's breathing was only making the scent have more of an effect-

 Carl undoing and slowly sliding off his jeans made Daryl's breath hitch and his chest go tight. When those thin, long legs were finally exposed, all Daryl could do was stare. One breath in. Now he was swimming in their combined scents. It was dizzying.

 How was he supposed to be gentle and careful when the kid was teasing him like - _this_?

 His hands began to move of their own accord. They slid from Carl's ankles, up his calves to his knees, resting there for a split second before spreading the kid's legs and making their way up his thighs, finally resting on his hips. Daryl pulled Carl's body closer, and Carl's arms were now above his head.

 Carl looked up at the older man, cheeks tinted pink and lips slightly parted. "Please. Daryl, please!" He whispered.

 Carl's fingers wrapped themselves into the belt loops of Daryl's jeans, tugging and yanking until they were pulled down enough for Daryl to do something. Anything.

 Daryl moved his hands to the back of Carl's thighs, spreading the boy's legs farther. So innocent.  _God dammit Daryl! What the fuck are you thinking?!_

 Carl's begging and pleading was the only sound Daryl could make out clearly, and even the exact content of those phrases being spewed from the young boy's lip were foggy at best. Daryl blinked a few times, and he shook his head once for good measure.

 He was beginning to lose it. He was growing impatient having to smell that sickeningly sweet scent he'd grown to love so much that was emanating from the boy's body. People outside could probably smell it too. _No_. _That's_ _not_ _allowed_. _Mine_.

 Carl whined. "Daryl! Do it! Do it! Please!"

  _Shit_. Daryl lined himself up, rubbing the tip against the wet entrance in front of him. Carl mewled, his body twitching and squirming in response to the now overwhelming stimuli. God damn if that wasn't hot-

 He had to start soon. If he didn't, he'd be gone and it would be all Alpha instinct handling it, and Daryl wanted to be coherent enough to start gentle so that Carl could enjoy this. Enjoy him.

 "Please Daryl! I want you inside me so bad! So... so please!"

 Carl was practically sobbing at this point, his body trembling and twitching.

 "Fuck," Daryl muttered under his breath. He ground his teeth together. This was really, really fucking bad. _Gotta_ _start_ _somewhere_ _I_ _guess._

 He began to enter the body below him, moving at a snails pace. The pleasured whines and whimpers that came from Carl's mouth urged him to go deeper. _Faster_. _Not_ _enough_.

 "Daryl! I-"

 Carl's deliciously sweet cries were cut off as Daryl's eyes shot open and he woke with a start. A cold sweat had broken out over his skin, and his lungs were burning with the need to breathe.

 He glanced around the tent, relieved to see it was as boring as he remembered it and that Carl wasn't there. _Carl_ _isn't_ _here_.

 He ran his hands across the tent floor, grinding his teeth together like nails on a chalkboard.

  _God_ _dammit_.

 He pounded his fists repeatedly into the ground before he could think. Why did things have to be this hard? Why was he thinking about Carl like this?

 Daryl looked at his knuckles. He watched as the blood began to bead and as his knuckles began to change color as bruises formed. _Oh_ _well_.

 He quickly grabbed a pair of dingy, worn out jeans, pulling them on and wincing as his sore muscles began to protest against the quick movement. He slowly inched the fabric up his legs, being careful of the abundance of over used muscles.

 By the time he managed to put the rest of his clothes on, the voices he'd been hearing for the past hour outside his tent since he'd woken up had begun to grow louder. Things usually get loud at this time in the morning.  That didn't mean it was any less irritating.

 A twig snapped. "Daryl?" The voice was small and meek. _Fuck_ _me_.

"Daryl? Are you up yet?" He could hear shoes scuffing against the ground and kicking at the rocks and gravel in front of his tent.

 The man unzipped the door to his tent and pushed the flap aside as he stepped out. 

"Yeah. I'm up." He looked at the boy. His breath caught in the back of his throat; he gulped. That ridiculous grey tee shirt.

 The boy continued to kick at the ground with his eyes locked on his feet. His hands were in his pockets, and the expression of confusion and mild annoyance was plain to see. Carl seemed to be lost in his own head, uncaring of whether or not others saw his emotions written in what equated to permanent marker across his face. So clear. So open. 

 Carl looked up, continuing to kick at the dirt and gravel. "Breakfast is ready."

 The teen was shifting from one foot to the other, averting his gaze each time the older man had managed to catch it for just a split second. The poor kid was nervous.

 _Kid_.

Those big, warm brown eyes met his own. The boy's lips spread into a small, cheerful grin. "Good," he said, looking up at the older man in such a way that his throat was slightly exposed.

 _He's_ _a_ _kid._

 The collar around his neck is leather. Brown. Worn and aged with white creases that spider web the width of it. Under that, skin pokes out. His scent wafts through the air, pulling Daryl in and wrapping him in a lulling embrace. Sweet. Intoxicating. Omega.

 The boy grabbed his hand, chatting up a storm on the way to eat whatever it was that was canned and reheated.

 _He's_ _touching_ _me_.


End file.
